


Eating Ice Cream

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [15]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Bad Puns, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Food Kink, Food Sex, Ice Cream, Kitchen Sex, Puns & Word Play, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In July 2011, Immediately following the Avengers shoot (moved from April-August to January-June).Tom Hiddleston and his costar, Abigail Morgan are drawn into a very private and torrid affair. Their affair has turned serious after admitting their feelings.</p><p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eating Ice Cream

“Tom!!” I squealed excitedly, racing out of his living room, tearing through the hallway to the front door and into his arms.

“Oommpphh!” He caught me awkwardly as I wrapped my arms and legs around him, forcing him to drop at least four bags from Tesco’s. “Abby!” The thud from the weight of those bags didn’t sound healthy for the floorboards or his purchases.

Paying absolutely no heed to those satchels, I beamed down at him, beyond thrilled to have him home. Grasping at my arse, he supported me against him, holding me in his strong arms. I threaded my fingers through his golden tresses, familiarizing myself with the new hairstyle. I was so used to the red curls, but the texture was altered slightly with the stripping of the color. His hair was still so soft and I couldn’t help from touching.

“Hi, love!” I beamed down at him, truly blessed to be in his arms.

Greeting me receptively, he smiled, “Hi, sweetheart.” I leaned into him and placed a soft kiss against his lips. “Still bored?”

“I bloody hate it!” My tenure with the BBC had completed ten days ago, and I didn’t have any auditions lined up for another four days. The whole Dennis thing had gone down, but the four actors, including me, were all released. My unemployment status didn’t sit well with me. I had so much energy to spare and nothing to focus it on. My new relationship status with Tom made me increasingly excited to spend more time with him, but he was filming Henry IV.

“Just a little while longer. I like you away from that environment,” he offered helpfully.

He placed me gingerly on my feet, much to my disappointment as I’d rather stay in his arms from the rest of the evening. “What’s all this then?” I motioned to the groceries that Tom started to retrieve from the floor, throwing things back in one of the bags that scattered. Delivering the food items to the kitchen counter, I clambered onto one of the bar stools to watch Tom put things away. I wasn’t trusted to put food away yet due to the numerous injuries I sustained the last time I attempted making toast.

My boyfriend giggled to himself. “Here’s the scoop,” he smirked, producing a half gallon of ice cream from the bag he was unloading.

I laughed, humoring him, before reminding him of the frigid weather outside. “Are we going for pneumonia? Ice cream in the winter doesn’t sound healthy.”

“For fear of your wrath, as you are asymptomatic at the mo, but in two days’ time, you’ll be so grateful for my careful planning. It’s a rocky road, but chocolate always gets you through.”

I looked closely at the packaging of the tub of ice cream. “Rocky road? Referring to my mood swings or the flavor?” I gave him a sideways look, warning him to tread lightly.

Pretending to look up, searching for the answer, he leveled his warm blue gaze at me again. With a playful wink, he shrugged, “Whichever one doesn’t get you angry with me.”

“Correct answer…” I watched him put potatoes, a few spices and chicken fillets away, moving about the tiny kitchen without so much as a thought. Slyly, I mentioned, “Once ice cream was created, all problems were licked.”

He was facing away from me, rearranging boxes of cereal in a cupboard. He shook his head, and in a sing-song voice, informed me, “Not funny.” Despite his verbal denial, I could hear the smile in his voice.

I tried for another, “Ooh, cold, Hiddleston. Don’t leave me all alone and ice-olated out here.” Leaning up and reaching over the counter top, laying my belly on the cool surface, I fingered the utensil drawer open to fish out some spoons.

He mumbled, “For those who live in the land of ice, that’snow problem.” I handed him the manner of a giggle at his weak jest. Tom turned around to see me struggle with the overreach. Once I grasped the silverware, I looked up at him. He was leaning against the sink, arms crossed over his chest and smiling.

“Did you not want to help me out here?”

He furrowed his brow and put on a fake frown. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling. The curve of your bum is delicious.”

I wiggled backwards, my ribs taking the brute force of the hard surface. I dropped back into the barstool and slid the ice cream across to me. Tom closed the distance between us in two strides and took the spoon I held up for him. He leaned over the island and kissed me soundly. We both put our elbows on the titled surface to dig into the ice cream. “Ask me what I’m thinking.”

I looked up at him with bright eyes, surprised. “What are you thinking, love?”

“Our second time making ice together.” He booped my nose with his fingertip.

Scrunching my nose at him, I asked, “Do you like me mad at you?”

“No, that was a fun day. I should’ve told you: to spot an ice cube, you have to have good ice sight.”

I giggled with the laugh he made at his own joke. “How long have you been sitting on that one?”

“Since then! It never came up organically… I got impatient.”

I put the tub of ice cream between us in offering. He teased, “Is this dinner then?”

As if a light bulb went off in my head, I lit up. “I cooked!” I scooped a spoonful of the confectionary treat and shoved it into Tom’s mouth before he could object. He stepped around the island to the same side as me to claim the barstool next to me. He tugged me into his lap as he fed me a spoonful of the chocolate.

He sprinkled cold kisses along my neck, causing me to gasp and moan at the stimulation. “I missed you today,” he said between peppered endearments.

Taking a finger to our treat, I ran that finger along his neck. The muscles strained with the cold, the veins appearing. I buried my tongue at that line of brown and licked the dessert of ice cream and Tom. “I missed you too,” I whispered into the newly cleaned skin.

Taking another mouthful of Rocky Road, he led my lips to his, sharing a nutty chocolate marshmellowy kiss between us. Our tangles mixed the taste together, searching for the familiar flavor of each other underneath. With one arm around his shoulders securing me in place on his lap, I leaned into him as much as possible. He kept me anchored in place with one arm snaked around my waist.

“Did you read?” he asked between brain freezing kisses.

“No, I like when you read to me. You do the voices and explain things when I don’t understand things.” We’d been reading Henry IV together, so I knew what he was working on.

He shed my (his) t-shirt off over my head to enjoy more of my skin. He dropped a small dollop of ice cream on my cleavage. I shivered from the cool temperature on my skin as Tom dunk to lick it away. And lick it away he did, laving my skin not covered in sugar with the same amount of attention. Desire replaced the cold response firing in my brain and I tangled my fingers back into his hair, holding him to me.

The hooks of my bra came undone and Tom was kind enough to relieve me of it. Pulling the satin free, he dropped it to the floor. He abandoned the spoon on the counter with a metallic clang. His lips attached to one nipple, nibbling it to full attention. His newly unoccupied hand found a new task of pinching my other nipple. I sighed with the sweep of fingers and tongue on each breast. “Oh, Tom…”

Covering one pebbled nipple with the dessert, I wheezed with the brisk shock of it. Swiftly, he tended to the sweet spot, nibbling the delicacy of my skin and the chocolate. Twirling my nipple with his tongue, he raised me to a frenzied lust. “Tom, Tom… make love to me. Take me to bed.”

“Baby, I won’t make it that far.”

He lifted me easily and placed me on the counter, peeling his trousers and pants off his long legs. Lifting my arse, I stripped everything off my lower half. He joined me on the countertop and slipped into my slickness, with a happy shared sigh. I wrapped my arms around in his neck

Before we moved together, I reminded him, “The ice cream will be soup.”

Affectionately, he ran his hand over my hair and I very nearly melted. He grinned, “Should I take that as challenge?”

“Please,” I breathed out. A plea and a challenge all rolled into one word. Tom withdrew from me, almost completely, before pushing back in. We savored every stroked of his length into me. Our appetite for each other, since admitting our deeper feelings for one another, had only increased. Every night we made love. Most of the time, we could wait until after dinner and a movie.

After we brought each other to climax on his countertop (not the first time that happened), he helped me off the counter. Tom said sweetly, “I like dessert for dinner.”

Flirting, I smiled, “I do too. Positively orgasmic.”


End file.
